Blood Breakdown
by Juno42
Summary: Gaara is becoming ill, and Temari isn't sure why. She calls on a genius for help. Sequel to Step On A Crack.
1. Chapter 1

**Blood Breakdown**

by Juno42 /center

* * *

Temari never remembered Gaara being ill.

Things had seemed to be looking up between her and her brothers since the night she had caught them both coming in from the desert at three or so in the morning. She had awakened with a start (in itself unusual because Temari was the heaviest sleeper in the family) with one of those unexplainable feelings that something was… well, not wrong, perhaps, but certainly not normal. The sort of unrest that can drive you nuts if turns out to be unfounded. She did the first thing she could think of and went to check on her brothers.

She wasn't too surprised to see that Gaara was not in his room. Having nothing much to do in the nocturnal hours, he often wandered the house and beyond at night. But Temari's feeling of unease persisted, so she went to check on Kankuro and was alarmed to find him gone as well.

She combed the house for them, found no trace of them. She tore out the front door, froze in the middle of the sandy patch that served as the front yard, and scanned the surroundings with eyes and ears. She was beginning to think about panicking when she finally spotted both her brothers coming around the block from the west side of town.

She was quite relieved, so naturally the first thing she did was storm over to them as they approached and harangue them as quietly as she could. This was not so much to save face, as it was to release all the pent up energy she had built up during her search for them, which she no longer had the excuse to do by panicking. She also surprised them very much when, at the apogee of her tirade, she grasped Gaara firmly by the wrist and yanked him back to the house, still griping now at no one in particular, and leaving a bemused Kankuro gawping in their wake. If you held a knife to her throat she could not have told you what possessed her to do that.

That night, after verbally flaying the reason for their little escapade out of Kankuro, and ordering both boys back to their rooms, she lay in her own bed and considered it. It was the way she did things; act first, then review the results and decide whether it had been successful or not. It occurred to her then that she and Kankuro seemed to be the only two people who could touch him without aggravating the sand. Oh, certainly if they attacked him, whether accidentally or not, the sand would protect him, but it not allow anyone else to touch him even casually, not even Baki. If anyone else tried to lay a hand on him, on his shoulder, say, the sand would at least get between them and Gaara. She didn't know why she had never noticed this before.

After that, Gaara had been the most socially she had ever seen him. An outside observer would still have called him an almost pathological recluse, of course, but for Temari and Kankuro that was a fair improvement. He was actually starting to seek them out. She would catch him wandering past the rooms they inhabited and looking into them briefly, as though checking to make sure they were still there. Sometimes he would even linger, not speaking, but just being there. If Kankuro reminded Temari of a housecat, Gaara was the one that sat up on the highest shelves, staring for hours at invisible things.

It had puzzled Temari like nobody's business when he had pulled it on her the first time. She had been in the kitchen, where the light was good, sorting a pile of mission papers, when Gaara had entered the room. She had looked up, nodded at him tentatively. He had watched her for a few a few moments. She got up to get a glass of water, when she turned around he was sitting the kitchen table, watching her. At least, until she tried to meet his eyes: he had a funny way of un-focusing his gaze so that it was still aimed her way, but he was only looking only about half the distance. Then he turned his gaze away, pulled a few of the mission papers across the table towards himself, and began sorting them.

It was the first time Temari could ever recall him voluntarily being in the same room with either of his siblings. So she did the same. Sat right down across the table from him and began sorting. They kept it up for nearly an hour. After that day, Temari had begun to, tentatively, foster some hope for Gaara.

That was when Gaara seemed to suddenly fall ill.

It started small. His already perennially pale skin turned even whiter, and he seemed to tire quicker and more frequently. It didn't stop there. A few days later she noticed that he was eating even less than he already did, which wasn't much to begin with. And a couple days after that, she noticed the shaking. But what bothered her most of all was the sudden reversal in habit of seeking them out. He became, if possible, even more of a recluse. He had taken to locking his door. If he spotted them about the house, he would hurriedly reverse his course and flee as unobtrusively as he could. Temari could almost swear that he was afraid of them.

And then, right around the time he was beginning to sweat feverishly, he changed habits again! Now he couldn't seem to decide where he wanted to be in proximity to them. He would seek them out, loiter fitfully in their presence, dodge their inquiries, and then rush away as though he couldn't bear to be near them. The most ominous aspect of Gaara now was the way he would look at them. He always had the impassive expression, but his eyes held a frantic kind of hunger. Temari could almost feel it burn on her skin. She could also sense that Gaara was giving everything he had to suppress it. That familiar instinct of constantly impending danger was back full force. But it was the only thing that kept her from grabbing Gaara by the shoulder and shaking an answer out of him. She couldn't. She would be no help to Gaara if he killed her.

Temari had, of course, considered dragging him off to a medic. Pointless, of course, even if he could get him to go, there would be no one who would see him. And they would probably be in more danger than her.

But she couldn't stand not knowing what was wrong. Whatever was ailing Gaara could have a simple explanation, of course. But it could just as easily is something very uncommon. For all she knew, it could be an affliction unique to Gaara as a demon-carrier. What she needed to do was talk to an expert. She didn't know of any experts.

But she did know a genius.

* * *

Nara Shikamaru was enjoying the bright summer day by doing what he did best: which was nothing. It was an ideal day. The sun was bright, but not oppressive. The breeze was cool, but not chill. The sky was the perfect shade of blue, with just enough fluffy clouds to decorate it. Shikamaru lay on his back in the grass near the training field, watching them drift serenely towards the northeast.

The only thing that spoiled the mood was the sudden appearance of some sort of messenger bird. It circled above him a few times, a small winged smudge in the sky. Then it dropped something.

Shikamaru had been hoping that the bird was just on it's way elsewhere, but when it had started circling, it became clear that this was not the case. As he grimaced up at it, he noticed that this bird was of a breed foreign to him. Who would be trying to contact him from out of Konoha? That's when he noticed the elongated shape plummeting through the air directly at him. He _just_ had time to hitch his grimace up a notch before the thing impacted him squarely in the solar plexus. It was not particularly heavy, but falling at a speed sufficient to elicit a healthy "_Guff!_" from him.

He lay there, getting his wind back, watching the bird wheel away from him, before picking up the scroll. He grimaced at it. His name was on the side of it, so it was definitely for him. Then he noticed the small stamp in the shape of an hourglass, the emblem of the Hidden Sand Village.

Who would be writing him from Suna? There was only one person he could conceive of who might, But what would she want to write to him for?

_Just open the thing and find out,_ he thought. He broke the seal, unrolled and read it:

_:Shikamaru,_

_No one is more surprised than me to be writing this, but I doubt that there is anyone in this village or country who would help me. I couldn't think on anyone else. Even if you can't help, maybe you know someone there who can. _

Anyway. Here's what's wrong. Gaara is sick. I have no clue why. He's been that way for almost a week. It doesn't look like anything I've seen before. The weird thing is, he was doing great just after we left the Leaf. No kills, not one. Then this weird illness just popped up. I thought if you had no ideas, maybe you could talk to your Hokage for me. He won't talk to us.:

The letter went on to list Gaara's symptoms, and bore Temari's signature at the end.

_Hmm,_ thought Shikamaru. Even for something he hadn't expected, this was unexpected. The very, very slightly sad twinge inside of him that had hoped for something a little different faded quickly into slightly flattered; that she had chosen to send this problem to him rather than straight to the Hokage. And even the flattery surprised him a bit. Normally this would fall under the heading of Severely Troublesome.

He set these thoughts aside and settled to the task at hand. He reread the symptoms listed a few times, and ran through his mental catalogue of possible ailments. The closest thing he could come up with was the flu, but he finally decided that this was not the case. Suna, being a rather threadbare and closed off ecosystem, was a pretty sterile place as far as viral diseases. They could have picked up something from the Fire Country during their stay at the Chuunin Exams, but it would have manifested much sooner than this, and Gaara would have passed it on to his sibling rather quickly. So a disease was unlikely.

The other thing these symptoms could indicate was reaction to something toxic. Poisoning of some sort? He knew that Gaara was just short of invulnerable to injury, but he'd heard nothing indicating he couldn't be poisoned.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Shikamaru stood and made his way back to town. He was in no particular mood to bother the new Hokage with such a thing if it turned out to be a simple explanation. So he took it to the only other person in Konoha that had a mind at least as sharp as his, and the knowledge of a medic.

* * *

"Hey, old man."

Nara Shikato looked up from his Shougi game with Akamichi Chouza to see his son strolling towards them, looking bored, with a foreign scroll in hand.

Shikamaru held it out to him. "What do you make of this?" he asked.

Shikato cocked an eyebrow at the boy before unrolling and reading the document. "Temari," he said thoughtfully. "Isn't that one of those Suna genins? The young lady?"

"Yes." his son replied shortly, in a tone that told him to expect much griping if he dared pursue that subject. Shikato noticed Chouza's mouth give an amused twitch out of the corner of his eye.

He dropped the matter, filed it away for later thought. "Well, I doubt it's a virus," His son nodded. "If someone were trying to poison him, you'd think they'd have done it already." Shikamaru looked pained at that, but nodded again. Shikato thought through a few more theories, but didn't have enough to pin any merit on any of them. "I'd need a blood sample before making any definite judgments." he said finally, rolling the scroll and handing it back.

Now his son looked nauseous. "Shall I ask them to get some smoke into a soda bottle with a tennis racquet for you while they're at it?" he asked.

Shikato shrugged. "You asked my advice, there it is." he said.

"Well, then how about some advise on how to accomplish that?" the boy said. "You know that guy is immune to anything short a dagger thrown at mach three-"

"Son," Shikato cut him off. "We have the technology." He heaved himself up and strolled into the house, followed by his now glowering offspring. Chouza chuckled slightly as they left. They wandered into the elder Nara's study, where he rummaged in cupboard until he unearthed a brown paper envelope. He opened it, and shook out on the desk two small packets. One packet was of fifty or so small plastic bags, tied with a rubber band. The other was also tied with a band, but these were small slips of parchment bearing calligraphic seals.

Shikamaru plucked the packet of parchments from the desk and studied the seal. It had three characters bracketing pair of interlocked diamond shapes. He recognized the characters for "sea", "earth", and "cup". He knew what these were for. They were used to draw blood directly from the skin without a needle, to be preserved over long periods of time. They were used mostly on very young children, people whose blood had trouble clotting, and the occasional pathologically needle-phobic. Shikamaru suspected that the only thing keeping the medical community from phasing hypodermic needles out altogether was the cost of the special ink required to make them.

Shikamaru also suspected that they might actually stand a chance against Gaara. The hypodermic-seals were painless and left no marks except a small trace of chakra for a day or two. Gaara's psychotic sand might interpret a needle as a weapon. But these were about as harmless as a slice of cheese.

"How many would you need?" Shikamaru asked.

"One would be fine," his father replied. "Three would be best. You think they'd work, then?"

Shikamaru scooped the packets back into the envelope and tucked it under his arm. "We'll find out, won't we?" He turned on his heal and headed for his room. "Thanks, old man."

"Don't send too many, those aren't cheap." His father warned.

Shikamaru waved idle acknowledgement as he left the room.

* * *

Continued in our next...

* * *

A/N: Anyone still there? If so, I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Next chapter is about halfway done. I won't give any spoilers, but here's a hint at what's coming: the title of the fic is pun, in several ways. That is all. Also, calm down, Gaara shows up in corpus in our next installment.

Some replies to those who read my first fic (to which this is a sequel, but you really don't need to read the first if you're dead set against it):

Shukaku: Glad you liked. I always try to stay in character. I just don't recognize characters when they're OC.

J-to: Thanks. Cute without sap is hard to do.

Junsui Kegasu: Glad you liked it, although I really didn't mean this to be any kind of yaoi. But whatever floats your 'ship, I guess.

_Hurricane-rider: I am honored. I have read your stuff. Suna's Kekkei Genkai was sweet. I read Three Again over the phone to a friend, hilarious. _

Ninja Shen: Ah, someone who agrees with the housecat reference. I like Kankuro, too. He reminds me eerily of my own brother. He'll show up in this story later (as will more cat references). Thanks.

the elfie: Sorry about the slightly messy grammar. I literally kicked that story up at about three in the morning and uploaded it the same night. I'm sloppy when tired. I looked over this one beforehand, though. Glad you liked.

Sariachan: I, too, can't deal with sancest. Or any cest, unless beyond all odds it happens to be canon, which sandcest is clearly not. When it comes to romantic relationships in fandom, I really like it when people stick as close to canon as possible, otherwise it just weirds me out slightly. (Naruto isn't all that specific yet, thought, so I'm open to the plausible.)

feifiefofum: I do, in fact, write my own characters. Their stories are in such bits and pieces and constantly changing that I haven't put them up anywhere yet. I will eventually, if I can get them to settle down. I'm just cutting my teeth on fanfiction though. It's good practice for anyone, really. Thanks for reviewing.

P.S. I tried hard to get Shikamaru and Chouji's fathers' names. I have no clue if these are the right ones. Pardon me if they aren't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blood Breakdown**

Part 2

By Juno42

* * *

Temari lay awake in her room, tracing the pattern of the hypodermic seal in her hand, trying to think. 

It was a good night for it. Kankuro was out on a mission, and Gaara had been exceedingly quiet so far. Shikamaru's reply had been quicker than she had had expected, which impressed her. She reread the letter again:

_:Temari,_

_I got your message. I gave it some thought and have a few ideas of what it could be. A few questions for you. One; has Gaara ever gotten sick like this before? Two; Does he have any allergies? Three; could he recently have been exposed, or being exposed, to any unusual drug or toxin?_

_To be completely sure, the best thing would be to get a blood sample. If you haven't seen them before, these are hypodermic seals. Just press one to his skin for about ten to twelve seconds. One should be enough, but get more if you can. They should be harmless enough to get past his sand. Also, do report any sudden changes in his condition, however small. I suspect some kind of toxic shock, so any slight change may be a huge indicator of what's going on._

_Take care and good luck,_

_Shikamaru:_

She was sure glad that Kankuro was away when the letter came. That "take care" line caused her face to redden irritatingly, quite against her will. Other than that, the letter gave her a bit of hope. Someone, at least, was getting somewhere with this.

She wasn't too thrilled about trying out the seals, though. She had heard of them, but the Sand usually took the direction of low-cost expediency, so they never were used very much, except in cases of severe hemophilia. She wasn't sure if they were non-threatening enough to use of Gaara. But she also knew that if anyone in the world could use them on him, it was herself or Kankuro.

She'd just have to decide how to approach him tomorrow, she decided, and turned out the light.

* * *

She awoke less than an hour later. Completely wide awake, heart pounding, with the sense that something was horribly, horribly wrong and in danger of getting infinitely worse. 

A feeling like that in this family usually involved at least one person for sure. She tossed the blanket aside and hurried down the hall to Gaara's room. Maybe he had snuck out again? Maybe he had fallen asleep and Shukaku had taken over.

The clenching panic in her gut cut through all her usual protocols, and she yanked Gaara's door open, where she had to pause and let her eyes adjust.

She could make out Gaara's form on the other side of the room, on the futon that was kept there if he needed to lie down for a while. He was lying down now, in a loose fitting shirt and pants, but was more than halfway off of the bed and onto the floor, at a nearly perpendicular angle to it, his head pointed towards the door, his legs on the mattress. He lay very still.

Temari stepped closer. Moonlight from the window made his skin icy blue. It made the darkness around his eyes stand out far too sharply. He didn't seem to breath.

Just then the smell hit her. It was faint, but present. And ominous. Something sharp, and slightly metallic, a bit like blood, but worse too because it wasn't even organic. It was an industrial, chemical kind of scent. Her eyes darted around for a possible source for the odor, and noticed that his left arm was stretched out, and a grey jug stood just next to his hand. She knew that jug, it was kept under the kitchen sink…

She didn't panic. She had no time for that, what with snatching up her brother, dragging him down the hall to the bathroom, holding him over the toilet and jamming her fingers down his throat until he heaved everything from his stomach. Then, still holding him up with one arm, reaching up and rummaging through the medicine cabinet until she found the small brown bottle of mission detoxifying potion, tipping his head back and pouring the whole thing down his gullet. Gaara coughed and sputtered, but the potion prevented him from vomiting it back up while it worked on him.

With her adrenalin receding, Temari took the drag down the hall to her room at a slightly more leisurely pace, got Gaara into her own bed, where he lay panting and shaking. Her hands shook as well, as she pulled the blankets over him, when his voice, raspy and faint, stopped her cold.

"I don't know if you're there. Maybe you're not real. I can tell you."

"Gaara," she started, "save your strength, you-"

"Shut up," he said, "You wanted the karma, you got it."

Temari shut up. Gaara's eyes, just barely open, stared up at the ceiling.

"It won't go away," Gaara said. "It was always there. That pain, in my chest." One trembling arm dragged itself up and his hand clenched the fabric of his shirt, over his heart. "It wasn't always so bad. It even went away sometimes, when I was with Uncle Yashamaru. Then that night…" He trailed off.

Temari blinked. The last time anyone spoke about their mother's brother was six years ago, just after his was killed. She knew that he had been in charge of Gaara at the time. She and Kankuro had never been told what happened, even though she had suspected that Gaara had something to do with his death. Whenever he was mentioned around Gaara, his eyes would smolder with anger, and people quickly learned to leave the subject alone.

"I didn't know it was him," Gaara continued. "He attacked me. I let the sand attack back. I took off the mask. It was Yashamaru. He was still alive. He told me. He told me about Mother, and Father, and the Demon, and my name. He told me the truth. Then he died. That's when this happened." The hand at his shirt slid up and brushed the symbol tattooed in blood on his forehead. "When this happened, the pain went away."

Gaara paused and swallowed a couple of time. Temari was barely breathing.

"The pain came back later," he continued. "Worse than ever. Then the next assassin came. I let the sand have him, and the pain went away. Then more came, and I killed them, and the pain would go away, each time. Nothing would hurt, at all." Feeling came into his voice for the first time. The feeling was fear. "But the pain started to come back sooner, and stronger. And I couldn't take it. I began wanting the assassins to come. I would wait for them. After a while I stopped waiting. As long as the sand had blood, the pain wouldn't come back."

Gaara's eyes closed all the way. When he spoke, his voice was stone dead again. Temari held her breath.

"But it doesn't work, not very well. Not any more. There's just not enough blood." He was starting to drift off. "The pain's always there. Death just doesn't help anymore." He sighed sleepily. "But it's all I know to do."

Temari sat there by the bed for a long time without moving. Her legs trembled when she got up, and her hands trembled when she made tea.

* * *

Temari dozed off in her desk chair in the very early hours of the morning, but was awaked by a groan from the bed. She rubbed at her eyes to try to get some moisture back into them, and took the tea mug off the hotplate. She managed to fix the medicinal tea before she had her panic attack last night. First lesson in field poison treatment, she recalled from the academy. She took the mug over to the bed. Gaara was grimacing and squinting, trying to bring the world into some sort of focus. Not succeeding, by the crease in his brow. 

"Gaara?" she said softly. "It's Temari."

Gaara squinted at her until he recognized her, shut his eyes again. "Gneh," he said.

"I need you to drink this," she pressed.

Closed his eyes and snorted. "Go 'way."

She expected this to be difficult. "Not 'till you drink this."

He tried a glare through bloodshot eyes. "Do you want me to kill you?" he rasped.

Temari gulped, suddenly remembering whom she was talking to. "No," she said, voice trembling. "Do you?"

"No…"

Temari blinked. She hadn't really intended to ask that, it had just popped out in nervousness. And she certainly wouldn't have expected him to answer, especially not with that answer.

"No…" he said again, then turned his head way from her. "Go away," he said again.

"I'll go if you drink this, okay?"

Gaara squinted at her again out of the corner of his eye, then at the mug in her hand, then at her again, sighed into the pillow and turned his head in submission. Temari helped him lift his head enough that he could sip at the tea, slowly. When it was gone, she set him back down and fussed with the blanket until she heard him whisper very softly, "Damn."

"Eh?" she said, and looked him in the face again. And was stunned to see tears leaking from his closed eyes.

He turned from her again and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "Damn," he said again, almost plaintively. "Why did you do that?" He suddenly rolled away from her and wailed softly into the pillow. "It could have been over! I'll never have the guts again now! How could you _do_ that?"

He broke down in harsh muffled sobs.

On impulse, Temari reached for him, pulled her hand back for a second, decided to hell with it, and put her hand gently on his shoulder. Once she had done that she pretty much ran out of ideas, didn't know what to do next, if there was anything she could do. She looked absently around her and spotted the hypo-seals, still on her bedside table.

Temari bit her lip. Just go for it, she thought. With her free hand, she picked up two of them, and with very careful fumbling managed to get them ready in her palm. They were each about half the size of a playing card, so they fit well enough.

She then slid her other hand from his shoulder up to base of his neck, where the loose shirt he wore rode down enough to uncover his back, down to upper shoulder-blade level. She carefully switched hands and gently pressed the seals to the exposed skin. She looked quickly around, half expecting to see a swarm of sand surging at her. But there was none, and Gaara seemed not have noticed her at all.

After fifteen seconds, Temari reversed the maneuver, switching hands I mid-slide. She dropped the seals from her palm to the bedspread. The double diamond pattern on the seal was now stained and glistening with crimson. She drew a shaky breath of relief.

Gaara's sobs were tapering off now. He seemed to have cried himself unconscious. But Temari couldn't bring herself to move her hand from his shoulder.

* * *

Continued in our next…

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took long to arrive. Reality occurred hard for a while. Joy, death and general mayhem. Jerry Juhl, head writer for the Muppets for many years, whom I had been in email contact with since high school, died September 27th this year. He was a very funny, very kind man; I miss him more than I even think I know. On the other hand, my aunt got married to her partner at the beginning of the month. Not a legally recognized marriage, of course, damn our state laws, but as legitimate as any. Gorgeous wedding. That's some of what has delayed me. 

Some are confused as to when this story takes place. I recommend reading my first fic, Step On A Crack. For those who refuse, it takes place just after the Sand Team returns from the Chuunin Exams disaster.

For you reviewers:

Junsui: Nobody in anime ever gets, like, simply sick, do they? I don't think I've seen anyone in Naruto catch a simple bug. Gaara's here is a bit more complex, as you shall find out.

Hurricane-rider: Thanks. I like switching POVs with each story. It's fun putting on different glasses, as it were. Shikamaru's fun to write, because you must ask, how does one think like a genius? I just figure geniuses think the same as anyone, just a good deal faster, in general, or in certain areas.

Ion: Glad you liked the blood seals. This middle story had to have blood as a theme, so I needed some way to get to Gaara's, and I know he'd never have a thing to do with syringes of any kind. (Neither would I, given the choice. HATE shots! Hate blood drawing worse. And drip feeds? Forget it! Ick!)

Manachan: Glad you liked, and read even, Step On A Crack. There is a bit of Shika/Tem in here. I'm not going to get too serious about it here, though, but it's there. They have too much to deal with in this story first.

A lilmatchgirl: I do follow the manga. I know the sand is special, but probably more special to Shukaku than Gaara. I always thought that it was a conveniently sized batch that he was used to using to feed the demon, but I think it could have been any sand, as long as his spilled blood on it. But there's a reason he ditches it in the story, you'll see.

Other reviewers, thank you for commenting. I hope you find this installment good. More to come. Bon appetite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Blood Breakdown**

Part 3

By Juno42

* * *

Shikamaru wondered why on earth he was this agitated. Since when had he ever been intense about anything, except clouds? 

He was lying on his back in his favorite spot, watching them now. It was getting on sunset in an hour or so, and there was a swath of fishbone clumps of cloud spreading across the sky. But for once Shikamaru wasn't in the mindset to enjoy the sight. He was dismayed at this project he's been set on. He _knew_ he was on the right track, he was sure of it. But things just refused to fall into place. That, and the reply he had received from Temari had been cryptically dismaying.

_:Shikamaru,_

_Here are a couple of samples. I hope they are enough. Is condition hasn't really changed. He doesn't seem to be getting better, but he's not getting worse. There was an incident, and he mentioned that killing made his pain go away. Or it used to, but not anymore. I don't know what that means, but I don't think he meant physically. In fact, he said he didn't want to kill. Any ideas?_

_Temari_

_P.S. I don't know what testing you're going to do, but if you find something like kitchen cleanser in the samples, don't worry, I took care of that.:_

Shikamaru had run several different chemical tests on the first sample, and had indeed found traces of cleaning chemicals. But not enough to account for Gaara's prolonged illness. Temari's note also left him wondering if whatever was happing to Gaara was psychological. If it was he was definitely _not_ equipped to handle it. But he wasn't giving up on it yet, by God!

And again he wondered why he was so fixated on solving this problem. This whole thing fell under his usual definition of Troublesome. Why was he bothering? Was it was Temari asked him to? He felt a bit of heat in his face at that idea. He suppressed in annoyance. Was it because, finally, something had come along that was somewhat challenging? Possibly. But who said he wanted any challenges?

In the end, he decided that, for now, the answer was that he was just bored. If it nagged at him after the fact, he'd find a different solution. Back to the task at hand.

"Hi, Shikamaru." Chouji's voice said from his two-o'clock. "Boy, you look upset."

He did? He hadn't realized he it was visible. "Just frustrated," he replied.

"You didn't find anything wrong?" Chouji asked, sitting down next to him, bag of chips rustling.

"Not a damn thing," Shikamaru said. "There is nothing in his blood that shouldn't be there. He's clean as a whistle."

"Hm…" Chouji said thoughtfully, crunching away. After some moments he said, "Want some?" and held the bag out to Shikamaru.

Shikamaru pulled out a chip. "What kind are they?" he asked.

"It's a new flavor, fish, of some kind. I like them."

Crunch! "Not bad."

"This is my first bag and thing I'm already addicted." Chouji said with a grin.

Shikamaru smirked. "You're addicted to anything with flavor in…." He suddenly sat up so fast is startled Chouji.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "What?"

Shikamaru wasn't listening. A bomb had just gone off in his head. He had just remembered the other affliction he knew that displayed the symptoms Gaara had been having.

Withdrawal.

"Excuse me," he said quietly.

Chouji was in the middle of a blink at the time, so he didn't see Shikamaru get up, but he was halfway down the road when his reflexes caught up, and gave chase.

He caught up to Shikamaru at the messaging aviary. Shikamaru went straight to the desk, pulled a sheaf of paper from the box, a pen from his pouch, and scribbled a hasty note:

_:Temari,_

_I think I know what's wrong now. I have to test it. Whatever you do, DO NOT LET GAARA KILL ANYTHING! If I'm right, the longer you keep him from killing, the easier things will get._

_Shikamaru:_

He enveloped the note, paid extra for a faster bird, and sent it off. Then he turned on his heel and took the shortest route to his home at a dead run, Chouji working to keep up. He burst into his father's study. "Dad, I need a peptide chart," he said to a nonplussed Shikato.

His dad frowned. "First the blood seals, now you want a peptide chart."

Shikamaru looked ready to tear his hair out. "Take it out of my salary!" he half yelled. "Can I have the chart please?"

Shikato blinked in bemusement at his agitated offspring. Chouji couldn't blame him. It had probably been a long time since he's seen Shikamaru that worked up, if he ever had. Finally, Shikato pulled out a key, unlocked a draw in the desk, and removed a long, rolled scroll. It wasn't particularly thick, but the roll was half-again as long as a forearm.

Shikamaru snatched it with a hasty "thank you" and fled to his room. Chouji gave Shikato a shrug before following.

* * *

In his bedroom, Shikamaru had already unrolled the chart across his desk and pulled out some supplies from a draw, along with the last blood sample seal. He uncorked a small vial of clear liquid, rolled the seal up and dropped it in, resealed the vial and shook it. When he stopped, the seal had been dissolved, and the beaker was half full of reconstituted blood. He set the vial down and began pulling on a pair of latex gloves. 

Chouji took a look at the chart. On it was drawn an elaborate circle, with a set of important looking characters spaced evenly around the outside. He counted twenty of them, closest to the circle, then a ring of six more outside of that. He had no clue what they stood for.

Shikamaru was now carefully preparing a small amount of ink. It had a very strange scent.

Okay, I give up," said Chouji. "What gives?"

"I'm checking to se if Gaara's problem might be an inside job." Shikamaru said absently.

"…Meaning what?" asked Chouji.

"This chart," Shikamaru explained, "lists the all six essential elements a person needs to live." He paused in his ink prep and pointed at the outer ring of characters on the chart. "Hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, sulfur." He pointed at the inner ring of characters. "These are the twenty amino acids essential to humans. The names aren't really important."

"And what are we doing with them?" asked Chouji.

"When you said you were addicted to the chips," Shikamaru explained. "It occurred to me that that's what Gaara's symptoms reminded me of."

Chouji blinked at him. "What?" he said. "Chips?"

Shikamaru's turn to blink.

Pause. "Oh!" said Chouji as it dawned on him. "An _addiction!_"

Shikamaru had to chuckle. Chouji wasn't stupid, but sometimes he had trouble hooking complicated sentences into conversations the right way up. It was rather endearing. "Yeah."

Chouji chuckled as well at his own faux pas. Then frowned. "But you said he was clean, didn't you?"

"Sure," said Shikamaru. "Of drugs."

"What else is there?" asked Chouji.

"Peptides." Shikamaru said. "Basically anything you're addicted to is facilitated by peptides. Peptides are small protein molecules that fit into your cells, and basically give it messages. The more places on your cells that these peptides can fit into, the more addicted you are to them. And to whatever it is that makes your body produce the peptide in the first place." Shikamaru picked up a calligraphy brush from the stuff on the desk and began, with extreme care to write along the outside of the great seal.

"That doesn't sound good." Chouji said.

"Only in excess, like most things." Shikamaru replied. "If we didn't have those little addictions then we wouldn't know how to survive."

"That kind of addiction is okay?" Chouji asked doubtfully.

"It's like the reason you need to eat so much." Shikamaru went on. "You particularly, I mean. Your family line uses jutsus that need an incredible amount of power. Over time, your clan has adapted in such a way that they are more addicted to food than is necessary for most people. By being addicted to eating a lot, your body makes sure that it's keeping itself supplied with the large amounts of energy it might need to use. If you and your family were to stop eating the way you do, you would lose energy far too quickly, and that could kill you. Addiction is how the body and brain motivate you to do what you need to do to stay alive, whatever that may be."

Chouji was impressed. "Wow," he said. "How come you know all that?"

Shikamaru pause in his work and looked a bit chagrined. "When I first met you, it kinda scared me seeing how much you ate. I asked Dad if you really okay, and he explained it to me."

Chouji was a bit touched by the concern. "I never thought to ask my dad about it." he said.

"Well for you it's perfectly normal, so you don't need to wonder about it." said Shikamaru. "Now, if someone eats a lot for the sake of eating, that's gluttony, and that is a bad addiction. Bad addiction is when the motivation is so powerful that it's all you focus on, and it lessens your other motivations. Like they say, everything in moderation."

Chouji just took a few moments to absorb all that. Then he said. "So what do you think Gaara's addicted to? Killing people?"

"I think that's what he does to fulfill his addiction, yes." Shikamaru said. "But I don't know how it works. Temari said that Gaara told her he didn't want to kill, so it's not something he likes. But it definitely became his fix somehow."

He finished his calligraphy and set the brush down on the ink stone. Then he stared into space for a moment or two, with a troubled frown.

"What?" Chouji asked.

"During the Chuunin Exams," Shikamaru said, remembering. "Naruto and I saw Gaara kill two Grass ninja. Afterward, he looked like he'd been completely doped. It was…pretty freaky." He shuddered and shook his head.

Chouji tried to think of something to change the subject. "So what's that you wrote?"

Shikamaru gestured at the drying scrawls. "That's just stuff to tell the chart what to look for and where. I want to look at his neuropeptides, the stuff coming out of his brain. That should be dry now."

Shikamaru picked up the vial of blood, and filled a long glass pipette with it. Then, very slowly, squeezed it out into the intricate design of the circle part of the chart seal.

The blood flowed around the pattern of the circle, meeting itself again at the far edge from the pipette. Shikamaru set the empty utensil down, Formed a complex set of hand seals, muttered something at the chart, and blood in the circle began to glow molten red. Characters began to fade up inside the circle, miniatures of the ones ringing the circle; the ones Shikamaru said were amino acids. They seemed to bubble into existence on the page, like drops of olive oil poured into a pot of water. It was a bit hard to recognize them at first, because they were smaller, and overlapping each other in small clumps or chains. Chouji did know a bit about molecules, from when the ninja classes were teaching how to mix field potions, and the overlapping patterns reminded him very much of the pictures Iruka-sensei would draw on the blackboard.

After several moments, the red glow faded, and the circle was now empty of blood. The character chains inside the circle were crimson, though, and in various states of boldness. Shikamaru bent to peer at them. He scanned them, making small, thoughtful grunts, which, after a while became more and more grim, along with his expression.

"What the hell is that…?" he muttered eventually. Chouji followed his eyes to a rather large, spidery looking cluster, in a particularly thick, angry dark red, almost black.

"See how some of these are clear and some are kinda faded?" Shikamaru said, before Chouji asked. "That tells me how frequently those peptide receptors are found on his cells. But I've never seen anything like _that_ before." He sounded a bit spooked about it. "Which means it's probably what we're looking for."

He continued to frown at the chart. He ran his finger over some of the more faded clusters, and tapped a couple times of one very weak one, so weak it could barely be made out. "Oxytocin," Shikamaru murmured, more to himself that to Chouji. "Hardly anything…poor bastard." He sighed, then straightened up and began rolling the chart. "Well, let's clean up, and go see what Dad thinks.

* * *

Continued in our next…

* * *

A/N: Hello again. I know, quite a bit technical, this chapter. I get a bit exited about biosciences. I tried to make this as realistic to the science as I could. So what Shikamaru is telling Chouji is the truth, as far as I understand it. And I'm sure I probably misunderstood some stuff, but I can get away with that because this is fiction. For those that may actually be interested, try going to Wikipedia (they know everything I swear!) and look up amino acids, peptides, and addiction, and surf around from there. (Tried putting the addresses up in this, FF editer does seem to like that : ) There will be more science in the next chapter. I'll try to make it short, and I'll be getting back to the Sand team. Trust me, this is relevant to the plot, it's not just a huge diversion. 

Once again, thank you to all who read and reviewed. I'm too tired to address anyone directly at the moment, sorry. Ask any questions in the review section, if you have any, I'll see if I can answer them.

Stay Frosty:3


	4. Chapter 4

**Blood Breakdown**

Part 4

By Juno42

* * *

"This is…unique." 

Shikamaru and Chouji watched as Shikamaru's father frowned into the magnifying glass at his son's peptide chart. He was peering at the large cluster of dark characters that Shikamaru had not recognized earlier. Shikato didn't recognize it either. But he deduced its purpose.

"It's like some super-opioid. Organic morphine. It's huge, though. A normal brain wouldn't produce this on it's own. Are you sure he was clean?" Shikato asked his son.

"Clean as a preacher's sheets." Shikamaru replied. Are you saying the brain can't or won't produce something like that?"

"Unless he was taking a very powerful drug I've never heard of, which you proved he wasn't. There's wouldn't be any instructions in human DNA on how to make it. Peptides aren't supposed to be that big." The elder Nara shook his head in bemusement.

Shikamaru frowned and looked troubled. "What if," he suggested carefully. "the instructions were coming from something else?"

His father raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"The demon. Shukaku."

It wasn't often that Shikamaru had the pleasure of seeing his father's jaw drop. He was no mood to savor it just now, however.

"It would make perfect sense, really," he continued. "I mean, not to be crude, but isn't that how a lot of pimps get their prostitutes to knuckle under?"

"By getting them hooked on drugs…" Shikato murmured, frowning in thought.

"Shukaku wants to kill. Gaara doesn't. He can't force Gaara to do what he wants as long as he's awake, so he tries a different tactic."

There was silence for a few moments, as they all attempted to wrap their minds around this astounding idea.

"Can I get this straight?" Chouji said finally. "Shukaku gets Gaara to do his killing by drugging him every time he kills? And he does it from inside Gaara's own brain?"

"It's possible." Shikamaru said. "Shukaku itself was sealed in Gaara, but its power wasn't sealed in any way, unlike…unlike others. He may not have been to completely take over, but he could have enough power to influence something Gaara can't consciously control, like his hypothalamus, where peptides are made."

Chouji considered that, and shuddered.

"I assume you're going to inform his sister?" His father asked. Shikamaru nodded. "Tell her I'm going to try and mix up something that will neutralize that stuff. I don't like the idea of that stuff being possible, let alone existing somewhere. He's probably having all the symptoms of someone coming off a heroin addiction. Although, I'm a bit surprised," He bent over the chart again. "He has amazingly little resistance for his other natural painkillers."

"The sand." Shikamaru told him. "Nothing ever touches him. He's never been injured so he's never needed to use his other painkillers."

"And I couldn't even find his melatonin, and he has an over-build-up of adenosine. He needs to sleep, now, sooner if possible."

"He can't sleep, remember?" Shikamaru reminded him.

"Well, tell her if there's any way for him to, he should do it as pretty damn quick. It's a miracle his brain hasn't dissolved itself." Shikamaru could hear the medic in his father coming out.

"Question," said Chouji.

"Possible answer," Shikato prompted.

"What's oxytocin? Shikamaru was bugged because it was barely there. What does it do?"

"Oxytocin is the hormone that reinforces social bonding." It was Shikamaru who answered. "It's mostly present in pair bondings like when people are in love, or in friendships. It reinforces trust, it calms people down. And Gaara has nearly none of it." he added to his father.

Shikato peered around the chart, but couldn't spot the barely visible cluster of characters, Shikamaru had to point it out to him.

Chouji thought through the implications. "His life must've sucked." he summed up.

"In a nutshell." Shikamaru said.

"Anything that can fix that?" Chouji asked.

"Well," Shikamaru mused, "If Temari is as determined as she sounds in the letters, it may correct itself, in time."

"Hope so," Chouji said. He'd always been a compassionate person. "It's amazing Naruto turned out as well as he did-" He cut himself of as Shikato gave him a sharp look, aware that he'd said too much. Shikato turned the look towards his son.

"It was driving me nuts," Shikamaru said. "I had to tell someone." Shikamaru had found out about the Kyuubi in their second year at school with Naruto, completely on his own. Simply puzzled it out of series of consecutive incidents. All his father had done was confirm his suspicions (knowing that Shikamaru wouldn't let it go until he did) and make him swear he's never tell anyone else he knew, or they could both get in serious trouble. Shikamaru had done his best, of course, but the bigger the secret, the harder it is to hold onto by yourself, and Shikamaru had caved in and told Chouji. Chouji had never had any reason to tell anyone else, so the secret was safe.

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes, but let it go.

"Well, I'm gonna go write Temari back with this." Shikamaru said. "We'll see if they can come up with something for him.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Sunagakure, Kankuro came plodding home around dusk, taking a roundabout way along the perimeter of town to avoid crowds (Suna was busiest just after sundown, when things began to cool off). He made it to the house, dragging Karasu after him, opened the door, called out "Hi, homie, I'm hun!" to announce his arrival to Temari. He dropped Karasu with a thunk just inside the door, but that was all the noise he heard. 

Kankuro blinked in puzzlement. "Temari?" He called again. He heard a thunk upstairs, then a repetitive thumping, and then Temari came into view at the top of the stairs.

Kankuro thought it might as well have been her just come back from a mission. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept more then a couple hours at a pinch for several days. "Jeez, what's up with you?" he said. "Are you okay?"

Temari blinked slowly at him. "Thneh…" she said. She crossed her arms on the banister and dropped her forehead on them. "Not a good week," she muttered from under her arms.

"Gaara?" Kankuro guessed. It was, he was sorry to say, the default hardship of their family.

Temari lifted her head sluggishly, with an almost melancholy look on her face. "I dunno what it is, really." Her frown tightened a bit more; to Kankuro it looked like she was thinking of crying. Temari didn't cry easily, so something was up.

Kankuro climbed the stairs and leaned against the banister next to her. "Tell it."

She did. And she did end up crying a bit, when she told him about Gaara's scrape with death. Kankuro could actually feel his face pale under his makeup. Despite their constant fear of him, the idea of him dying was somehow more unbearable. When she finished talking, she dropped her head down on her arms again, letting a few more tears loose. Kankuro rubbed her shoulder weakly and tried to think. "Where's he now?"

Temari sniffed and lifted her head again. "In my room. He doesn't want me to come in there." She let out a frustrated sign. "God, I wish I knew that mind-reading trick we saw at the Chuunin Exams," she said. "Then maybe I could find out what the hell's going on with him!"

"I'll check on him. _You_ go to bed, use my room." he said sternly.

"You just got home," she protested.

"I'm good for another six hours, easy. Get."

Temari didn't argue again, proving how exhausted she really was, just grunted thanks and shuffled down to Kankuro's room. Kankuro went to the door of Gaara's room, and pushed the door open just enough to peer inside.

Gaara was there. Sitting cross-legged on the bed. His skinny arms were tucked in close to his torso, his head down, shoulders hunched, rocking slightly in a fitful way.

"Hello?" Kankuro murmured. Gaara stopped rocking and his head came up just enough to peer at the doorway. His face was blank as usual, but his eyes were wide, like a wild animal in a cage. He said nothing.

Kankuro decided just to go for it, and came into the room. He approached the bed, kept both hands in sight, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. He could only wonder what organ directed all this, as his brain would usually be telling him to flee in terror at this point. Spinal chord, maybe. Or, maybe he was just sick of being afraid of his brother. What was to fear, really? The worst Gaara could do was kill him, and quickly at that, Gaara had never been one to beat around the bush when it came to the killing. And Temari had mentioned that Gaara had said he didn't actually care for it anymore, if he ever had.

Gaara watched him for a few steps, then let his head sag back down again. His breathing was slightly shallow, like he couldn't quite catch his breath. There was a slight sheen on the skin Kankuro could see, and he was shaking like a man with a killing fever.

Kankuro reached the bed, climbed on, and sat cross-legged in front of Gaara. And there he had to take a moment to admire the fact that he done that, with the feeling like he'd just snuck a piece of meat away from a sleeping lion without waking it. Gaara didn't react, but Kankuro knew that he was aware of him.

"So," he began. "You really gave Temari a hard time this week, she says."

Gaara's voice was low, slow, with hardly any strength behind it. "Is she sleeping?"

"Yeah." Kankuro replied.

"Good," Gaara said. "She was starting to look like me."

There was no trace of irony in that statement. "What's wrong with you?" Kankuro asked. "Is it the demon?"

Gaara lifted his head slightly again, and Kankuro could see a really confused look on his face. The sort of look someone gets when they just can't figure out what the hell is going on around them. "N…no." he said.

Kankuro blinked. "Really? He's not bothering you?"

"No."

Kankuro was astonished. It was the same feeling he had when Gaara had told him he'd gotten rid of his gourd of blood-tainted sand. "Is he stiff there?" he asked.

Something like remorse passed over Gaara's face. "Yes."

"But he's not pestering you?"

"No."

"Is he doing anything?"

"No."

"He's just sitting there?"

"Yes."

This was starting to feel too much like twenty questions to Kankuro, so he tried to think of something other then a yes or no question for him. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Kankuro rolled his eyes in frustration.

"But…"

Kankuro perked up. "Yes?"

"I think…"

Kankuro waited.

"I think…She _scared_ him." Gaara stressed the verb with something like amazement coloring his voice.

"Who scared him?" Kankuro asked, even though he feared he already knew who She was.

"That…Fox."

Kankuro blinked. Not the person he expected! "Fox?" he asked.

Gaara looked up, he eyes staring at an invisible point just short of infinity. He looked amazed. "That guy, that Naruto…" he said, intensity coming into his voice. "He's got one. He's got a demon. It's Kyuubi."

Kankuro just sat there. This was something that had quite simply not crossed his mind. Someone else was wandering around with a demon trapped in him? Not only that, but that blond nut job from Konoha? He could barely even credit that! That guy was so completely opposite Gaara in almost every respect. It was inconceivable

_Then again,_ Kankuro thought, _it would take another demon to beat Gaara wouldn't it?_ But that wasn't the important part of this revelation.

"Naruto has a demon," Kankuro said, "the Nine Tailed Fox. And you think it…scared Shukaku?"

Gaara nodded slowly. Kankuro didn't know what to say. Since he was hastily thumbing through his script for something what he blurted out was, "How?"

"She's older than him." Gaara said softly, eyes drawing back from the infinite as he ducked his head again.

What did that mean? Kankuro didn't know. "But he's doing nothing now?" he said.

"Nothing."

"Well…that's good, right?"

Gaara ducked his head even further down, if that were possible. He shuddered. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what's going on."

Kankuro was at a loss. He looked at Gaara, really looked at him this time. He never thought he'd see Gaara as totally desolate and weakened as he was now. Gaara shuddered again, almost spasmodically this time, sucked in a gulp of air, and suddenly lifted his arm and bit down on his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Kankuro said, shocked.

Gaara just stared blankly at bit of sheet between them, arm clamped in his teeth. Kankuro could not see the bruises up and down his forearm, where he had been biting it. None of the bites seemed to have broken the skin, however. Kankuro reached out before he could think and pulled Gaara's arm from his mouth and looked at it. Gaara didn't resist. Kankuro shook his head at the bruises. "Jeez, Gaara," he murmured.

Gaara tugged his arm back slowly and folded it across his torso again. "Go to sleep, Kankuro." he told him.

Kankuro was thrown by the non-sequitor. A bit of his usual annoyance at his baby brother ordering him around resurfaced. "I will if you will." he countered.

Gaara lifted his head again and looked at him like he'd grown horns. "I can't," he said flatly.

Kankuro raised his hands in a shrug. "Why not?" he said. "You said the raccoon wasn't doing anything. This might be your chance."

"No, it's just…" Gaara groped for words. "I can't!"

"I'll watch, wake you up if something happens."

"That's not it."

"What, then?"

"I forgot how!"

Kankuro couldn't help it. He snorted and then broke into giggles. Gaara glared at him, so he stifled himself. Then looked a Gaara in puzzlement when he continued to glare.

"You're telling me you really have never slept? Ever?"

Gaara made a little shrug. "If I have, I don't remember it."

"Yikes." Kankuro was astounded, and dismayed. He's once come back from a mission to the Rock Country with all but five ribs broken, and could not sleep for more than two weeks. Not for more than a few minutes at a time, it hurt too much. Every part of him felt directly and mechanically connected to his rib cage. It was necessary you remain absolutely still, all day, and all night. If he fell asleep, some part of his body would move, a finger would flex, say, or his foot would twitch, or his head sag sideways on the pillow.

Have you ever been awake for anything approaching two weeks? That, in itself was mind-shattering, never mind the pain that caused it. For Gaara to have been awake for so long that he couldn't even recall how it was done was an idea somewhere between unbearable and unbelievable. In that case, Gaara really had no business being sane at all, much less as sane as he was, which by all accounts wasn't much.

Kankuro got off the bed and sat down at Temari's desk. "Lie down." He told his brother.

Gaara stared at him.

"Humor me." Kankuro told him.

A few more moments of staring, then unfolded slowly and stretched halfway out on the bed, facing the desk.

"Now, just close your eyes," Kankuro said. "And try to relax."

Gaara stared into space for a minute, then apparently decided he had nothing left to lose, and closed his eyes.

Kankuro was a bit surprised at how easily Gaara gave in. Maybe Gaara had given up on being afraid as well. Kankuro remembered something he read once: "It's amazing how much mature wisdom resembles being too tired." How apropos.

Kankuro spent the time using some of his sister's stationary to start on his mission report. He kept hearing Gaara's breathing slow for a bit, then give little starting huffs. After the third time, he looked up as saw Gaara blinking blearily into space. "You don't have to fight it." Kankuro told him. Gaara looked doubtful. "Seriously, it's normal. People spend a third of their lives asleep."

Gaara blew a little sigh, closed his eyes again. After a few minutes his breathing slowed, at this time it stayed that way.

* * *

A/N: Yay, a new installment! Before you review, a few notes: 

I said before somewhere, I'm not entirely sure about Shikamaru's father's name is. My research seemed to split even between Shikato and Shikaku. I picked Shikato because I was going to be mentioning the demon Shukaku and thought the other name sounded too similar. If someone knows for certain his real name, please tell me, but I am going to use Shikato for the remainder of the story, for consistency. One anonymous reviewer said it was Shikaku, any takers?

The quote Kankuro remembers, about wisdom resembling being too tired, is a quote from Robert Heinlein. As is also the description Gaara finds of the word "love" in Step On A Crack.

For more info on oxytocin, peptides, addiction and whatnot, I recommend checking out Wikipedia. I use it a jump-off site for a lot of my research. It can get technical, but it's a start. Oxytocin has it's own site, too: www.oxytocin.og/refs/index.html. Dig that.

Out of curiosity, did anyone else think that Gaara looks a bit like an anime version of Danny Elfman circa to mid-80s? Tell me I'm not the only one who saw that! Also, now I seem to have Kankuro's English fanfiction voice, in my head, _sounding_ like Elfman as well. That's just odd. But somehow appropriate.

Thanks everyone for reading!

:3


End file.
